


Expertise

by penny



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: Community: ij porn_battle porn_battle, F/F, mechanical kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-02-24
Updated: 2008-02-24
Packaged: 2017-10-05 16:17:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penny/pseuds/penny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Winry, Scieszka, and automail gloves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Expertise

**Author's Note:**

> For Porn Battle prompt _Fullmetal Alchemist, Winry/Scieszka, mechanical kink, "Trust me, I'm an expert."_

Winry's scent is surprising. Scieszka expects her to smell like her workroom, of oil and steel, but instead she's crisp and clean, like fresh laundry brought in from the line. Trust me, she says, and Scieszka does. She always has, so it's nothing to let Winry push her back on the bed, nothing to let Winry straddle her, golden and glowing in the sun slanting in through the shades.

Winry tastes like she should smell. Scieszka swirls her tongue around Winry's erect nipple. The tang of sweat and steel and oil blossom in her mouth, and the taste makes Scieszka moan as much as Winry's hands on her breasts, the calluses on her fingers rubbing just right.

"Trust me?" Winry shifts and pulls back, holding Scieszka in place with a hand between her breasts. She's reaching behind her for something.

"Always."

Winry smiles, looking relieved, and she lets go of Scieszka to pull on a pair of gloves. Scieszka squints at the glare. No, not gloves, not exactly. Automail, or rather fake automail. The steel clicks as Winry curls and uncurls her fist.

"It feels...well, I'd like to know how it feels with you." She reaches down so she's almost touching Scieszka, and Scieszka imagines she can feel the chill radiating from the steel.

She licks her lips and tries to give Winry a reassuring smile. "You're the expert, aren't you?"

It's the right thing to say. Winry practically sparkles. "Yes."

Her touch is firm and knowing and cold, at least until Scieszka's skin warms the metal. The steel fingers are smooth, so different from Winry's flesh, but Scieszka arches up into the touch all the same.

Winry shifts and spreads Scieszka's legs. The steel fingers flutter along the crease of Scieszka's thigh. Scieszka's already wet and too impatient for this sudden tentativeness.

"Yes," she breathes, grabbing Winry's wrist -- so strong, like steel -- to guide her hand.

Winry's breath hitches, and then those fingers are firm again. She slides one in Scieszka, and it's so familiar, the way she strokes, the way she curls her finger just so. And it's so different, the way the steel, thicker than Winry's real fingers, fills her.

"Yes." Scieszka arches her hips as Winry adds another finger, then another. She's full, oh, so full, and there's no give to the steel as Scieszka clenches around it. But there's plenty of give to Winry in her soft breasts, the curve of her hip, the hollow of her throat.

Scieszka slides her hand around the back of and pulls her down into a kiss. She's still holding Winry's wrist, can feel the flex of tendons as Winry works those fingers, managing to fit another in, and oh, the fullness is glorious!

Oh yes, Winry is an expert. Scieszka fingers the steel when they're done, nestled together on Winry's narrow bed, both flushed and panting. Next time, she'll have to show Winry the benefits of book learning.


End file.
